the search
sometimes i think death / would be easier than the all encompassing plight / of finding meaning
every day i leave the white tarps of my desert shelter / beating sun and burning sand i embark on a white hot journey toward the dunes but it seems that every time i try to climb them to get a better vantage point the sand crumbles under me and i slide back down this fruitless effort of climbing sand knowing that answers sit at the top, just over the curve of its peak so i dig my feet in deeper but sink further into the sand